Ah, Paris, where Ione can try to make sense of her new companions.Ione woke up the next day in the middle of one of the king-sized beds. The morning sun streamed in through the window. With effort, Ione rolled over on to her back, trying to figure out where she was. Realization set in. Ione threw off her blankets and struggled to get to the edge of the bed.
"Good morning, Ione." Jack waved from the couch. "You slept well, I see."
"What time is it?" Ione's voice was rough.
"Morning. Otherwise, it does not matter. What is time?"
Ione fell backwards on the bed. "I don't need philosophy first thing after I wake up." She glanced at Jack, a charcoal three-piece suit hanging smartly on his frame. "Business meeting?"
"I don't know. Do I have one today?"
Ione rolled out of bed. She smoothed out her old t-shirt. "I need coffee first."
Jack pointed at a silver urn on the low coffee table. "Help yourself."
"Thanks." Ione padded on her bare feet, enjoying the feel of the rug. She poured herself a mug, taking a whiff of the brown liquid. "This isn't the civet coffee, is it?"
"No, my dear." Jack set down his newspaper. "Decadent, isn't it?"